


Purity

by T_sixsixsix



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fuck Or Die, Humor, M/M, Rimming, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 11:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14591595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T_sixsixsix/pseuds/T_sixsixsix
Summary: "Here, Hunter, you will dedicate yourself to the great god Dionysus by transgressing your most sacred boundaries, by reveling in sin and filth and reclaiming the mad, unbridled passions of the flesh!"





	Purity

Dean woke up with his cheek pressed into a puddle of his own drool.

As the world came in to focus, he saw that he was lying face down on a table -- one of those ugly, sturdy six-foot-long folding tables that people set up for bake sales or brochure displays or convention registration desks.

It was fucking uncomfortable. The wood-grain laminate surface was warped and stained and peeling up at the edges, and it reminded Dean too much of the too many bleak school cafeterias in too many nameless towns where he'd choked down too much mystery meat and jello as a kid.

He didn't move, instead taking a moment to orient himself before acting -- a hard-learned habit that his younger self would have scoffed at.

He saw an empty, open space with worn linoleum flooring and dirty walls, dimly lit by a few yellowish florescent bulbs and the weak daylight that filtered through small, high, weed-choked windows. Dean's table was placed in the center, in full view of several dozen robed and hooded figures who stood watching him from a low dais at the end of the room.

So. This must be the basement of the abandoned church that he and Sam had been watching since early morning. And those hooded goons must be the cult members they were hunting. 

 _What the fuck? Getting jumped on a stake-out?? Abso-fucking-lutely unacceptable!_ was Dean's first reaction. His second reaction, hitting him a fraction of a second later, was the too-familiar full-body anguish of: _Where's Sam???_ He jerked involuntarily in an attempt to jump up and clobber someone, only to discover that he had been firmly and thoroughly duck-taped to the table.

"Been sleeping the sleep of the righteous, Mr. Hunter?" came a loud, hollowly echoing voice from the group's apparent leader, who stood behind a banged-up podium. The man's voice was loudly and fuzzily amplified by the podium's built-in speaker as he continued.

"Welcome, chaste and benighted do-gooder, to this Temple of the great god Dionysus, in which you have been imprisoned so that you may be freed!"

Dean tried to clear his throat, but was prevented by the awkward position of his head and neck. "So... I'm guessing you're the evil dicks who've been cursing people in this town?" He asked. His voice came out sounding nasal and congested. "Making guys decide to screw their livestock and family pets in public places?"

"We are acolytes of the ancient and powerful god Dionysus, deity of sublime chaos, orgasmic obliterator of all arbitrary order, liberator of human passions, saint of sacred sensuality! We seek to free mankind from the small-minded rules of conventional morality!"

Dean groaned in disgust. "You've ruined these people's lives. They've lost their jobs and their families, been thrown out of the community, and are being hounded to death by PETA supporters. How is that liberating?"

"The outsider is always freer than the conformist, if only because he has so much less to lose. But unleashing the bounties of bestiality in this backwards bedroom community was merely..."

Dean tuned out the fanatic's blah blah after about the first sentence and was concentrating on more practical concerns. He subtly tested his restraints, sized up his captors, and looked around for potentially lethal objects. _Oh, yeah. Definitely gonna strangle this idiot with the podium's power cord when I get loose._

Most importantly, Dean strained all of his senses to detect any sign that Sam was nearby. He closed his eyes momentarily to focus on what he could hear. Then suddenly opened them wide again as his concentration was shattered by a sudden, startling and very loud noise.

A bleating sort of noise: "Ma-aa-aa-aa-aa-ahhh!!"

For the first time, Dean noticed a pungent barnyard odor in the room and managed to shift his duck-taped head far enough to make out a large dog-crate in the darkened corner. The bearded face of a small brown goat looked back at him from inside.

Equally startled by the goat's rude commentary, the group leader was momentarily silent and still. Then he raised his arms, holding one out towards Dean and the other towards the crated ungulate. "Ah, yes! Very well said, my shaggy friend! Mr. Hunter, this is Hercules the goat. He is eager to meet you, and I am certain you and Hercules will soon become very close, intimate friends."

"Like hell we will!" Dean spat out in as gruff and angry a voice as he could manage with his neck twisted 90 degrees to the left. But the leader was gaining momentum now. He clapped his hands twice and gestured to his followers, several of whom hustled away out of Dean's range of vision, then went on speechifying.

"As I was saying, our true mission, set out by the great god Dionysus, is to attract and entrap hunters such as yourselves, self-righteous vigilantes who enforce the repressive strictures of Mosaic laws by destroying so-called monsters in the name of human purity."

While he spoke, two of his acolytes returned bringing another table to a spot between the leader's podium and Dean's table. This second table was draped with a sigil-covered cloth and set up like an altar, with candles, symbolic objects, jugs and jars of herbs and oils, and a moldy leatherbound book arranged around a large ritual bowl. A third guy dragged Hercules out of the crate and tethered the little guy to the ritual table.

The leader picked up a pair of scissors from the altar and used it to cut off some of Hercules' wool, which he then placed on the altar beside the ritual bowl. He then clipped a lock of hair from Dean's head and held it up for all to see, saying:

"Here, Hunter, you will dedicate yourself to the great god Dionysus by transgressing your most sacred boundaries, by reveling in sin and filth and reclaiming the mad, unbridled passions of the flesh!"

Dean decided he had heard enough. "OK, that's it. I look forward to *ignoring* everything else you freaks have to say just as soon as you tell me where my brother is."

"Your brother?"

"The overgrown guy with the foofy hair that was with me when you grabbed us?"

Suddenly the priest thrust both arms up in a celebratory gesture worthy of Evita Peron and practically yelled. "The Great god Dionysus rejoices in this serendipitous sacramental sacrifice!" Then he again clapped his hands twice and gave instructions to his minions. "Put the goat back in the crate and bring out the other hunter!"

A visible ripple of excitement ran through the line of worshippers, the sounds of low murmurs, urgent whispers and rustling robes filling the sudden silence.

The leader turned to his right, then to his left, shook his head, repeated his clap-clap thing and yelled. "BRING OUT THE OTHER HUNTER!"

Three startled acolytes exchanged frightened looks and then scurried off as the podium speaker squealed with feedback. Dean heard them banging through a rusty-hinged swinging door (a sound that Dean normally associated with diner staff emerging from kitchens bearing burgers) somewhere behind his head, followed by more muffled banging, grunting and yelling until finally Larry, Moe and Curley reappeared struggling to lug in yet another crappy folding table, this one having two-hundred-plus pounds of Sam Winchester duck-taped to the top.They staggered over to the altar and let Sam's table slam down roughly across from Dean.

Dean felt a warm flood of relief rush over him when he saw Sam. Sam's mouth was duck-taped shut, but he was awake and alert and didn't seem to be in any obvious pain when his eyes met Dean's.

Dean was starting to feel really stupid, because he had a very bad feeling about how events were unfolding since the cult leader had heard that little word "brother."

Sure enough, the leader's next move was to clip a lock of Sam's hair to put on the altar in place of the goat hair. Then without hesitation, he dropped both brothers' hair clippings into the ritual bowl, spoke some rhythmic words of ancient Greek, and dropped a lit match into the bowl.

A ball of pink flame erupted from the bowl and a cloud of foul-smelling orange smoke rolled out across the room.

Immediately a handful of robed guys scuttled over to Sam and Dean, whipped out scissors from under their robes and started working to free the brothers from their (authentic 3M-brand) bonds, painfully ripping tape (and swatches of body hair) off of bare skin, and drawing blood here and there with clumsy, overeager scissoring.

The leader was now holding up two large carved stone penises, one in each outflung hand. "We are freeing you from your physical bonds," he intoned, "because you are now much more strongly held together by the will of the great god Dionysus, who commands that you forswear all allegiance to the Puritan God of your ancestors." As he went on talking, the priest slowly brought his hands together above his head until the pair of phallic paperweights clunked together.

Dean was now fully free and standing up, tugging his shirts and jacket into place, finger-combing his hair, stretching and shaking the stiffness out of his limbs, and moving his head around to regain his normal range of motion -- all while pointedly ignoring the leader's speech. But he went utterly still at the next moment as the leader grasped both dildoliths in one hand to bring them forward with a dramatic flourish and point them towards Sam and Dean.

"You must now worship the great god Dionysus by indulging in the passions of the flesh with each other's bodies. And if you refuse, when you try to leave this holy place the great god Dionysus will smite you both dead."

If the leader was hoping for his last ringing phrase to hang in the air during a moment of dramatic silence, his effect was ruined by the rustling and clunking of the acolytes pulling large cushions from underneath their robes and seating themselves on the floor with arms drawn inside the loose, tented outer garments.

Dean shot a look of disgust at the seated acolytes. "Really? You're all planning to have a holy little wank under your ballgowns while you watch my brother and me commit forced incest? What, the million hours or so of online pornos not doing it for ya? Sounds to me like you're just not trying."

Sam was now fully freed as well, and he had gingerly removed the tape from his own mouth as soon as his hands were loose. The first thing he said was to caution Dean against trying to fight their way out of the situation. "Dean, I've read about this spell. I ... I think he's telling the truth," Sam almost stammered and met Dean's eyes with an apologetic expression.

"You mean..." Dean responded in a lowered voice, "we're really gonna have to..."

Sam nodded regretfully, keeping his eyes fixed bravely on his brother's.

"Well doesn't that just *suck*!" Dean growled, his face dark and angry.

"Hey," Sam said softly, "I get it. But don't worry, I got you." Dean arched one eyebrow and answered: "Yeah, yeah I know. We'll figure it out!" Then they grinned at each other encouragingly.

Dean turned back to the priest and addressed the entire room in his most intimidating, confident, authoritative voice.

"There's two things you creeps need to know before this goes down: first, what you're doing here is rape, and Not. Anything. Else. Sex is awesome and all, but only when both people wanna do it."

Dean took a breath to continue, but just then Sammy whispered something, apparently something that needed to be explained at length, into his brother's ear. Dean nodded and "um-hmm"ed a few times, then finally jerked his head away, glared impatiently at Sam, cleared his throat, and continued:

"Uh, yeah, what I meant to say that sex is awesome but only when one, two, three or more people, all of whom are mentally competent and capable of giving informed consent, wanna do it." He gave Sam a look that clearly said _There. Happy now?_ before continuing.

"And 'No' means 'No' at any time, for any reason..." More whispering from Sam, more eye-rolling from Dean, a full-on bitch face from Sam...

"Just to be perfectly clear, 'No' means 'No' at any time, for any reason, unless everyone concerned has agreed to role-play a scenario involving non-consensual activities and everyone knows the safe word."

"Oh, and the second thing is, I'm gonna castrate every last one of you sonsabitches before I leave this building."

Finally, Dean turned to face his brother.

"OK, Sammy. There's only one way I'ma let this go down, and I don't wanna hear any goddamn argument!"

Dean placed a firm hand on Sam's shoulder and looked his little brother straight in the eye. "Little Brother, you gotta fuck me, all right?" His voice was strong, certain, and defiantly pitched so the words reached the ears of everyone present.

Sam shifted and shrugged out from under his brother's hand -- but before he could speak or complete the gesture, Dean continued in the same loud, emphatic voice:

"Bitch, I am NOT gonna put my cock in your ass right now and you know damned well why not!"

Dean reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a tube of Astroglide, a box of condoms, and a mini-pack of pre-moistened flushable wipes, and thumped them down one by one on the nearby table.

"For one thing, it's my turn to bottom this week."

Sam, expression unchanged, was calmly pulling his boots off while Dean worked on unbuckling his belt.

"For another thing, you're still walking funny from the four times I banged you during the Godzilla marathon on Saturday."

Sam had his jeans off and was straightening them before folding, while Dean, with his boots still on, had his jeans and boxers bunched around his knees, and stumbled backward to plant his bare ass on the table edge.

"But most importantly, Baby Brother, you are going to top because I personally witnessed you eating at least seven jalapenos at that cantina last night," -- huffing from the effort of toeing off his boots with his knees bound up in his lowered pants -- "which means there ain't no way in hell Little Dean here" -- kicking his jeans off while protectively palming his hardening cock -- "is going anywhere near that extra-spicy ass of yours today."

Moving into a pants-less clinch, the brothers began kissing, then trading practiced nips, licks and nuzzles down each other's exposed necks, while Dean gently thrust himself against his taller brother's thigh. Their appreciative gasps and groans filled the otherwise silent room, until Dean pulled back with a devilish grin.

"Speaking of spice, though," he went on, reaching around to caress Sam's firm, delectable butt, "I bet you taste reeeeally good right now." Dean gave Sam a short, but hungry, open-mouthed kiss, then spoke intimately but still audibly into his brother's ear: "So I think I'ma eat you out for a good long while before we get to the main event."

Turning Sam around to bend him over the table, and sinking to his knees, Dean paused, looked thoughtfully around at the stunned onlookers, and casually asked:

"I don't suppose you folks have any sour cream handy...? Or maybe some salsa?"


End file.
